


Marching On

by adroitstories



Series: The Adventures of Force Ghost Clones [6]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, messing with vader au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 09:28:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25348483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adroitstories/pseuds/adroitstories
Summary: When clone troopers die, they don't stop existing. They simply enter the Halls of the Mother. And watch over their still-living vod'e.(OR: This will follow the story of Rebels and the Original Trilogy, except the clones are Force ghosts now.)
Relationships: 501st Legion & Anakin Skywalker
Series: The Adventures of Force Ghost Clones [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1825171
Comments: 25
Kudos: 110





	1. Fives' Demand

Fives wanted to scream. So much death—so much pain. All his brothers, all his _vod’e_ —gone. They no longer were individuals. Their Force signatures, once bright and unique, were gone, dimmed until they barely shone in the overwhelming dark.

It _hurt_.

He pulled at his hair and screamed into the palms of his hands. All he could do was watch, as Darth Vader led the 501 st to the Jedi Temple. He watched soundlessly, as his _vod’e_ opened fire on the Jedi, on younglings. They never suspected a thing—and one by one, the younglings fell. He looked wildly at Appo, standing over the smoking corpse of one such youngling. Appo commed Darth Vader.

“That’s the last of them, General Vader,” Appo said.

“Acknowledged. Stay in the Temple—there may be more hiding.”

“Copy that, General.”

He wanted to shake Appo—to knock him out of the stupor and the blind obedience to orders. He remembered Appo’s laugh and bright eyes, how the man had a voice of crystal and silver, resulting in a few broken hearts no matter which world they were stationed. He comforted the shinies with his voice after their first campaigns, and he led group funerary services.

All of it gone.

He opened his eyes, and took one deep breath. He blurred back into the nothingness, and let the Force carry him back to the Beyond.

“Mother!” he shouted. “Mother! Face me now!” he screamed in the Halls, the tear tracks drying quickly on his face. He ran out of the room and into the sprawling work of stone.

Every single clone looked at him curiously. They watched as he ran to the doors of the Mother’s Hall, where every newly-dead clone emerged from. He pounded his fist on the enormous stone doors, the sound echoing on forever.

“Fives!” Tup scrambled to meet their brother. “Fives, what are you doing?” They pulled at Fives, trying to get him away from the doors. “Fives, come on! You’re gonna—”

And the doors burst open in a blaze of light. Wind whipped and thundered around them, and the light that emerged from the doors was blinding.

Fives stood, braced for the impact, but Tup was blown nearly twenty meters back. They blinked, and Tup scrambled to their feet, panting, ears ringing from the opening of the doors.

Fives stood scowling as the Mother, grand and terrible and ancient, walked out of their Hall, eyes carefully neutral as they considered the clone before them. The Mother was taller than the clones had ever seen them—nearly fifty meters tall, and haloed with a strange light and power. Fives looked so small against the imposing and alien majesty of the Mother, a defiant speck against the Force.

“Fives,” they said, a word that echoed with a thousand voices. The word seemed to slice through the air itself. “You summoned me?”

Fives stamped down his instinct to back away. He grit his teeth and forced himself to look upon the Mother. He took a deep breath.

“Send me back,” Fives said. “Send us back—we can fix it! I need to fix it!”

The Mother looked at Fives with sorrow. “You know I cannot. It is enough that you are allowed to even witness Life. No more will I allow.”

Fives set his jaw. “It’s not enough. It’s not enough at all! Why allow us to even watch Life, huh? Knowing we can do nothing about it—do you only wish to torture us?”

“Not at all,” the Mother said. “But once you have died, once you have left the mortal realm, you come here, to rest, or become one with the Cosmic Force. No other options are allowed to you.”

“Why?” Fives shouted. “Why allow us to look upon what we can no longer affect?”

The Mother regarded him curiously. “Do you wish to not know what happens to your brethren? Or upon events in the mortal plane?”

Fives breathed out slowly. “No, not at all. But to be unable to do anything at all—that is my problem. That is all of our problem,” he said, gesturing to the _vod’e_. “We’re not unthinking, unfeeling droids! We can’t just sit here as we watch our friends and our _vod’e_ die or suffer fates worse than death, and do nothing about it!”

The Mother looked at him carefully. “So what would you ask of me?”

Fives gulped. “Please,” he said softly. “If you cannot let us go back to Life, then at least give us some ability to change it. Let us take care of our brothers, who are still there, from the Beyond. Give us the ability to be heard, or to affect objects, in Life. That is all I ask,” he finished humbly.

“A small request, then,” the Mother said dryly, though they seemed to smile. They thought for a moment. “The Force does not relinquish that in its grasp so easily. I cannot easily change my nature. However,” she added at Fives’ dejected look, “I will allow you to affect one person, and the things around them.”

Fives gaped. “One person?” he asked, incredulous. “Just one?”

“You wish for more?”

“To save my brothers?” Fives snapped, rolling his eyes. “You have the power to save all of them! Don’t you have the responsibility to do something, in the face of so much suffering?” he asked.

The Mother said nothing.

Fives sighed. “To save my _vod’e_ , I would ask everything of you.”

The Mother blinked slowly.

“You are defiant, indeed,” they spoke, and there was a current of admiration in their voice.

“Not defiant. Just stubborn,” Tup said, finally finding their voice. “And full of love for his _vod’e_.”

The Mother fixed their gaze upon Tup, and Tup convinced themselves not to shrink under that endless void of a stare.

The Mother nodded. “One person, who will be able to see and hear you, and perhaps allow you to affect the world around them.”

“Me, and my brothers,” Fives said, and the Mother nodded graciously.

“Of course. I would expect nothing less.”

Fives nodded. “Let me consult with my _vod’e_ ,” he said. 

“Choose wisely,” the Mother’s voice boomed.

Tup ran over to Fives’ side, and so did Droidbait, Hevy, and Cutup. Hardcase joined in, and so did Waxer and Thorn. Even Commander Ponds and Keeli joined in, and though he didn’t know them as well, he was grateful for the help all the same.

“So,” Fives began. “Who do we pick?”

“Who’s still alive, by our count?” Tup asked.

“Rex, Cody, Fox, Bly, Jesse, Kix, Appo, Gree, Doom, Echo & Co, Wolffe,” Tup rattled off easily. “All alive as of right now. All are currently controlled by their chips,” they added bitterly.

“Should we think about a Jedi?” Ponds said thoughtfully. Fives laughed darkly. 

“Aren’t many Jedi left. Not even Windu,” he said, and Ponds looked pained at the statement. “Even if we pick a Jedi, they’ll never have the power they once did. Not after all of them died like that.”

“Things are moving too fast,” Cutup muttered.

“A politician, then, perhaps?” Keeli suggested. 

Thorn scoffed. “No, absolutely not. There are maybe three politicians left who aren’t completely power-hungry, and none of them have the power to do what we want them to do.”

“What do we want them to do?” Waxer asked. “They’ll be able to see us, and hear us, and we can affect physical things around them.”

“We want to take care of our brothers,” Fives said immediately. “It would be a bonus if they can overthrow the Empire and kill the Emperor and Vader.”

“So who’s in a position to do that?” Keeli asked. “Everything is still new, nothing’s set yet.”

“Which Jedi are left? Just as a precaution,” Ponds asked.

“Kenobi, I think the librarian, a few Padawans, Yoda, and Ahsoka,” Waxer said grimly. “Maybe some more, I don’t know. They’re all scattered.”

A very, very bad idea came to Fives at that moment. Tup looked curiously at him, and so did Hevy and Droidbait. 

“I’ve got a bad idea,” Fives said slowly.

“Oh, no,” Hevy groaned.

“What…what if…we chose Vader?” Fives asked hesitantly. His _vod’e_ immediately burst into an uproar.

“What!”

“After everything he’s done?”

“He’s a _dar’jetii_ now!”

“Evil! He’s just evil!”

“Shut up! Think about this for a minute,” Fives said, with all the force and command of an ARC. He held up his hand, listing all the reasons. “Vader is now in charge of the Empire, that means he has access to all of our brothers who are still alive and chipped. We can make sure he doesn’t harm them, if we play our cards right, maybe even get him to reset the chips. Two, if we get the chance to affect physical things close to Vader, that means we’re set to strike at the heart of the Empire. Plus,” he added darkly, a mischievous grin on his face, “do you think for one minute I would give up my chance to haunt the man who brought upon the destruction of my brothers, who betrayed us and everything we stand for?” 

“He’s killed younglings, though,” Tup protested. “You think we can change him, even after all of that?”

Fives smiled grimly. “No, I don’t think we can change him. But you know what we are to him?”

His siblings sent him confused glances. 

“We’re reminders of his failure as a Jedi. And is there anything more than Anakin Skywalker hates than reminders of his failures?”

They all nodded at that, their experiences with the legendary general only confirming what they all already knew to be the best plan. Fives turned back to the Mother.

“What is your decision, young ones?” the Mother asked.

Fives took a deep breath. “We choose to haunt Darth Vader, for the sake of our vod'e.”

A strange glint came over the Mother’s eye. They stopped and looked off into the far distance, seeing something beyond the clones’ sight. “So you choose the Chosen One? Chosen in many ways, it seems,” they said after a while. “A wise choice. Your demand is granted—but ask no more of me. I will not grant anything more.”

Fives exhaled. “Thank you.” 

“Wait,” the Mother said, holding up a palm. Their face became pained, and full of sorrow and love. “There is one you will wish to see.”

The Mother stepped aside, and there, in the doorway, was Echo. He looked younger and happier and more tired than he’d ever seen Echo before. He had discarded all of the prosthetics that the Techno Union had given him, but the scars still remained. Huge, round divets in the skin—the inch-high scar tissue on his legs and arms—but he was still Echo, he was still their brother, and they would know him even in death.

Fives gasped, tears in his eyes, and ran to meet his brother. He tackled his younger brother, and Echo chuckled as he struggled to regain his balance.

“ _Ori’vod_ , I missed you. It’s been a while,” he mumbled into Fives’ ear.

“I’m so sorry I left you,” Fives whispered. “I should have gone back, I’m so sorry. I tried to find you here when I died—and you weren’t—” he choked on the words.

“It’s okay,” Echo murmured. “It’s okay. I would have done the same,” he said, pulling back and meeting Fives’ eyes. “I don’t blame you at all. I’m here now, and our fight is over.”

Fives gasped and laughed at the same time, a dry, bitter sound. “So close and yet so far, _vod_ ,” he said. “We’re not quite done, yet.”

Echo rolled his eyes. “Only you could find some way to make the afterlife a warzone.”

“Echo!” Droidbait, Cutup, and Hevy shouted, and soon Domino squad was reunited. They hugged and it was all Fives could do to not start crying, both from joy and bitter sadness. Here they were, a set again at last.

“You did so good,” Hevy said, pride and love in his eyes when he looked at Echo. “You did us all proud.”

“You made ARC Trooper!” Cutup said, envy coloring his voice. He shook his head. “I never would have believed it.”

“Yes you did,” Droidbait sighed, smacking the youngest _vod_. “You were on the verge of tears when Commander Cody and Captain Rex promoted them.”

“Was not.”

“Was too.”

“How did you die?” Fives asked. “You were alive just a minute ago.”

Echo smiled wanly. “Well, we were among the first clones terminated because of our ‘special skills.’ There was a self-destruct order we were assigned. Apparently the Emperor thought of us as a threat. So he had us killed.” He looked back at the doors. “The others should be coming through, soon.”

Fives swallowed. “I’m sorry, Echo. You deserved better than that.”

“Eh, its fine. Don’t think I would have wanted to live much longer like that anyways.”

Hevy shushed them. “C’mon. You know time is weird here, and we’ve got a Sith Lord to haunt.”

Domino squad grinned at that, and Tup joined them. They let their feelings settle. As one, they used the Force to find Darth Vader, and disappeared into Life.

* * *

“I don’t see him anywhere,” Fives said. “Do you?”

They were in a medical office—nearly pitch-black and without light. They didn’t need light to see, but it was useful all the same. Echo tried to look around. All he saw were medical machines and one large healing pod in the middle.

A sudden hiss startled all of them, and a white light turned on. The lid to the healing pod moved backwards, revealing a ruined face, white and puckered and pink and scarred.

The Emperor entered the room, and Fives shuddered. He knew the feeling, the slow, creeping cold all too well.

“I got a bad feeling about this,” Fives said. 

A black mask was quickly fitted onto the ruined face, and a black helmet followed soon after. The ominous sound of mechanical breathing filled the room.

“Rise, Lord Vader,” the Emperor said, and Tup, Fives, and Echo gaped. 

“What…what happened?” Echo gasped. “What happened to him?”

The healing pod tilted upwards, and Vader looked as if he was about to step off the table.

“Where…where’s Padmé? Is she alright? Is she alive?” 

Fives, Echo, and Tup held their breath. 

“I’m afraid, it seems in your anger…you have killed her,” the Emperor said, silkily. 

“What? No…no!” Vader said, thunderous.

“Search your feelings, Lord Vader. You know this to be true.”

Machinery and metal creaked and groaned, and the Force-ghosts looked around anxiously.

“NOOOOOOOO!” Vader roared. He breathed heavily, and with difficulty. 

Fives, Tup, and Echo looked on at Vader. There was little pity in their eyes, for a man who had Fallen so far, who had caused so much suffering and destruction.

“Was it worth it?” Fives hissed. “Was it worth all of this?”

“I think we should go,” Droidbait said. “We need to find out what happened.”

Fives nodded. “Alright.”

With one last look at the ruined, utterly destroyed man, the clones disappeared. 


	2. Leverage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vader's really tired of the clones' antics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so....I tried something different with the Mando'a this time around. Lemme know how you like it! It took me a while to figure out, so if you could comment with your thoughts on how I handled the Mando'a inline translations, I would really appreciate it--to see if its worth doing again bc yeesh buddy, it was a pain to figure out.  
> I thank you in advance for your patience with the formatting, I realize this was my first time with the inline translations, so if the fic is a little sloppy-looking because of that, that's my bad, totally on me, and I'll get better at it in the future. It should also work on mobile too, if you click the links on the Mando'a words, pls lemme know if it doesn't work.  
> Also, thanks for reading! Your comments/kudos' are what make me want to keep writing!

“Hey look, it’s the shit-lord!” Jesse called out as Darth Vader passed.

Vader continued walking. Fives and Echo laughed at him.

“So, what’re you up to, today, shit-lord?” Jesse asked innocently. “Gonna destroy a town today? No, that’s too small for the great Darth Vader—what about a whole city?” he suggested. There was a nat-born officer walking towards them, clearly intending on passing Vader in the hall.

“Oh, I know! Maybe he’ll visit the Senate today, scare the livingText with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ] out of some Senators?” Tup suggested sweetly. “Gods know they all piss themselves at the sight of you.”

“The fear keeps them alive,” Darth Vader said. The nat-born officer blanched and speedily walked away from him.

“Gods, why do you talk like that? You’re too pretentious,” Fives mocked. “Was listening to you talk to Sheev the other day—‘What is thy bidding, my Master?’ I mean what is this, the early 2000’s? Like you’re in some holodrama. Pretentious kark.”

Darth Vader growled. He looked around the room. “Stop this, at once,” he commanded the clones.

“What, the name calling? The constant derision?” Fives called. He advanced on the Sith Lord. “I don’t karking think so. You deserve it. For everything you did.”

“All is as the Force wills it,” Darth Vader responded. “It could not have happened otherwise—it was destiny.”

“ ‘Destiny’?” Echo spat. “As a clone, I say, kark that. No such thing as destiny.”

Darth Vader considered Echo briefly. “As a clone,” he repeated.

“Yeah, as a clone,” Echo said. “While our ‘purpose’ officially might have been to fight and die, we were so much more than that! You knew that, once.”

Vader turned and walked back to his office. He activated his comm unit.

“CC-2224, CC-1010, report to my office immediately.”

“Don’t call them by their numbers, you Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ]! They are sapient beings!” Fives shouted, apoplectic. “Call them by their names! Own up to what you did to them!”

“What stupid kark are you gonna have them do now, Vader?” Tup asked, his hand on Five’s shoulder. The Force-ghosts followed him. Fives took a second to compose himself.

Echo began mimicking Vader’s breathing. Fives began speaking, although he was definitely trying to go for a Vader impression. “Commander Cody, we’re going to terrorize a planet today, at the bidding of my stupid karking master! Bring your good pistols!”

Vader simply ignored him.

“Commander Fox, time to put your master forgery skills to good use and sign these flimsidocs for me. My mechanical fingers just can’t do the job anymore.”

Tup joined in. “Ah, yes, can you please sew a hand-embroidered pattern onto my majestic, flowing cape, Commander Cody?”

This continued until they reached the sparse, dark office of Darth Vader. Cody and Fox were there—Cody in stormtrooper mockery of 212th gold armor, the sigil of the Empire on his bracers and chestplate. Fox was there as well, armor painted completely red, marking him as a personal guard of the Emperor. Fives, Jesse, Tup, and Echo looked at them, and glowered at the Sith Lord.

Fox shut the door behind him, then stood at parade rest, with Cody.

“Cody! Wake up! Don’t let this Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ] speak to you! Fox! You wouldn’t let this Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ] talk to you like this!” Fives yelled, in a desperate attempt to break the hold of their chips.

Jesse put a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Hasn’t worked before, Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ], won’t work now.”

“I hate this,” Fives murmured.

“No, it won’t work,” Darth Vader said dryly. “Now, I command you to leave me alone.”

He ignited his lightsaber, the glow blood-red in the dim light of the room. He swung, and stopped a hair’s breadth from Fox’s neck.

“Or I will kill them.”

Cody and Fox, blast them, were perfectly still. Jesse didn’t even think that they were breathing.

The Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ] looked grimly at each other. They all had the same thought.

“Well?” Vader asked, saber still poised to behead Fox. “I command you to leave me!”

Fives stepped next to Fox and Cody, and he tried to hug them, but he just passed through them. Not for the first time, he looked absolutely heartbroken.

“Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ],” Fives murmured.

“Vader,” Fives said, turning to face the Sith, venom dripping from the word, “trust me when I say killing them would be a mercy compared to the life they’re living. But, what would be even more merciful,” he added, “would be to stop using their chips. Deactivate them. Let them go.”

Vader considered Fives, who was staring at him with such rage it would have bowled him over, if Vader were a lesser man. The hate and disgust radiated off of the clone, and Vader was amazed at the power of the Force.

“If they were alive, in any meaningful sense of the word, they would be begging you to kill them,” Echo said, disgust twisting his every word. “What you’ve had them do—” Echo actually shuddered with rage—“is enough to make them hate themselves for the rest of their lives.”

Vader was still considering Fives. He was amazed at the power they seemed to have over the Force, unbelievable as that claim might be. While they were living, they were mere specks in the Force, no more unique or different than any other Force-null, they shone brightly with the Force now, as if they were made of it.

“Vader, just deactivate their chips. Deactivate the chips for all of them,” Tup added. “That’s what we want. Or, all we can hope to get, right now.”

Vader deactivated his lightsaber, and Fives allowed himself to relax, just the barest fraction. But his rage, his disgust, and his despair still remained in the Force. Vader inhaled, and let the darkness envelop him.

“Your rage gives me power,” Vader exhaled. “Mercy is for the weak.” He lifted his arm and pulled his fingers into a fist. The clones heard the crunch of bone, and both Fox and Cody crumpled to the ground with cries of acute pain, gingerly avoiding landing on their broken legs.

“Do not bother me again, ARC-5555. Else next time, I will pick different, more choice targets.”

“You—!” Fives actually was speechless. His rage choked him and he rushed at Vader.

Jesse, Tup, and Echo joined him. They mercilessly kicked and hit Vader, trying somehow, in any way they could, to hurt the Sith Lord—to hurt him like he’d hurt their brothers. But to no avail. Try as they might to harm him, they were still only ghosts.

Suddenly the door opened, and the Emperor entered the room. At the cloying, sickly evil presence, the clones quickly got off Vader.

“Lord Vader,” the oily voice began, “what happened?”

“Master,” Vader responded, “the clones attacked me.”

The Emperor looked at the two, still living clones in the room, and then back to Vader. He clearly had questions, but ignored them. “Well, then, they must have been rebel agents,” and used the Force to quickly snap their necks.

Tup screamed, and ran over to his brothers. His translucent fingers passed through them, and he laid over them, sobbing. Jesse closed his eyes in grim acceptance. Echo slumped to the ground, sick. Fives dropped to his knees, hot tears blurring his vision.

“Do not be so merciful again, Lord Vader,” the Emperor said.

“Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ],” Fives said, voice shaking.

“Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ].” Tup, Echo, and Jesse said in response.

“We’ll see you soon, Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ],” Fives promised.

And with that pronouncement, the ghosts disappeared.

Immediately, the four clones rushed to the doors of the Hall. The doors were outlined in old runes and patterns. Fives banged his fist on the stone doors, yelling for his brothers.

A being appeared. It wore a simple robe of black, with long white hair. Its skin was deep brown. It looked at Fives quizzically. “You know better than to rush the Mother before it’s done,” it said simply.

“Acolyte, I don’t care what the Mother wants, those are my brothers, my Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ], and I want to see them. Now.”

The being held up an opened palm. “Patience. You know the procedure. Your brothers will emerge when they are ready, and no sooner.”

Fives exhaled sharply. Echo put a hand on his shoulder.

“Patience, Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ]. Let them have their time.”

Jesse nodded. “Better to let them have their time than to not,” uncharacteristically somber.

Acolyte regarded them blankly. “You have all the time you could ever want.”

* * *

Fox woke up first. His eyes flickered open, and he rushed to sit. He felt nauseous immediately. Gasping for breath, he steadied himself against the cold slab that could pass for a bed. Looking across from him, he saw Cody, still sleeping. Both he and Cody were wearing red robes, not unlike their cadet uniforms, he thought absently. The nausea passed in a few moments.

The room was simple, Fox noticed as he looked around. Gentle flames flickered from sconces mounted on the walls, and he saw a small waterfall in the corner. The gentle lapping of water soothed Fox as he adjusted to his surroundings. The window showed only the stars, not unlike the viewport of a ship. There was a door facing the beds, ornate and carved of stone.

Cody groaned slightly, and Fox’s eyes flickered to him. “Hello, Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ],” he says softly.

On instinct, Cody replied, with his eyes still closed, “That’s Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ], to you.” Cody sighed and sat up, taking in the room, and their clothes. “Your scar is gone,” he said, motioning to Fox’s cheek and jaw.

“So’s yours,” Fox touched his brother’s face. Cody smiled wanly.

“Is it over?” he asked softly, and Fox wanted to rage at how tiny his brother sounded.

“I think so, Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ].”

Cody exhaled and bowed his head, his body slumping. “Finally.”

They were silent for a few minutes as they sat together, remembering and contemplating.

Cody stood up first, his bare feet warm against the cool stone floor. He stretched experimentally. “Huh, pain’s gone,” he said, flexing his shoulder, wiggling his legs.

Fox joined him, gingerly testing out his legs. “You’re right,” he said, marveling at the lack of pain in his legs, how his hands didn’t shake anymore. He bounced on the balls of his feet, feeling like he was nine/eighteen years old again. He also genuinely felt rested—like he’d gotten more than three hours of sleep. He couldn’t remember the last time that had happened—not since before—

Cody looked at him. “I’ll go first?” he asked, eyes sliding towards the door.

Fox chuckled, the first time in a long while. “I don’t think we need to worry about that, anymore,” he replied, walking easily towards the door. Cody padded softly after him.

The door slid open quietly. They were faced with a desk and two chairs. No one else was in the room. This room was also simple—no art decorated the walls, and the windows only showed a view of space.

There was a small bell on the desk. Cody looked at Fox, who nodded. Cody pressed on the button, and the bell rang a clear note.

Immediately, a being appeared before them. They were tall—with skin as black as the void of space. Small pinpricks of silver and blue peppered their skin, reminding Fox of distant stars. The being seemed to glow with a kind of inner light. They had eyes that were a bright white, infinitely kind. The being’s hair was like silk in water—constantly swirling and dancing through the air. Dressed in robes that shimmered with color, the being regarded them.

“Hello,” they said, and the voice seemed to echo with the voice of thousands.

“Hello,” Cody responded, and Fox added his greetings.

“Oh, look at how beautiful you are,” the being said, little more than a murmur. “You have been through so much—you did so well.”

Cody and Fox jumped. Fox arched an eyebrow. The being waved their hand, as if bringing them back to reality.

“My apologies. I am sure you have many questions,” the being said softly. “I would answer them, if you ask me.”

Cody spoke first. “Where are we?”

“You are in the Beyond.”

Fox snorted. That didn’t help. “Are we dead?” It was less a question, and more fact-checking.

“Your presence is no longer on the mortal plane, so yes, you are dead.”

Fox and Cody looked at each other.

“So…where are we?”

The being smiled, and the smile was nearly blinding with kindness. “You are in the Beyond—part of the Cosmic Force. This place is beyond time, and beyond space. Those words have no meaning here.”

Cody cocked his head. “Who are you?”

“I am Mother.”

“Mother of what?” Fox asked.

“Simply Mother. I am the Force personified.”

“I thought Jedi were the Force personified,” Cody said.

“Perhaps.” Mother cocked their head. “Perhaps. But you are no longer in the mortal plane,” Mother replied.

Both clones considered that.

Cody spoke up. “Can I have my scar back?” he asked, motioning to his left eye. “I’m not me without it.”

The Mother laughed at that, and the sound was like a rushing brook, joyful and giddy in delight. “Of course. Most wish for their scars to disappear, but you may of course ask for them back.”

And as if it had never left, Cody’s scar reappeared on his face, the flesh curving and bowing to accommodate it.

“I’d like my scars back, too, please. Not the aches, just the scars,” Fox said, and the Mother smiled.

It was a curious sensation—Fox felt almost nothing at all. Simply his flesh curving and wrinkling, almost of its own accord, and then nothing.

“So, what happens now?” Fox asked.

Mother considered them carefully. “You choose what happens. You may pass into the Cosmic Force, and cease to hold onto your sentience. You may choose to see your brothers—many of whom still roam these Halls. Or you may choose neither, and remain here until you are ready to come to a decision.”

“Our Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ] are here?” Fox asked, hope in his voice for the first time in a long time. Even Cody perked up at the words.

“Yes, little one,” Mother answered. “There are many who wish to see you. But make the decision for yourself. They can wait.”

Fox exhaled. He placed his head in his hands. Gods, but how he wanted to see his vod’e again. He looked at Cody, who was uncharacteristically silent.

“I would like to see my Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ] again,” Fox said.

“Very well. And you, Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ]?” Mother asked. Fox and Cody jumped at the use of his real name.

“I…I think I’ll stay here for a little longer,” Cody said, looking down at his hands. Fox looked at his little brother, understanding in his eyes—old, terrible memories flashing through his mind, and he tried his hardest to convince Cody that he understood—by gods, he understood. Cody met his eyes, and gave the smallest of smiles.

Mother nodded. “Come with me, then, young one,” they said. Fox stood, but stooped instead by Cody’s chair. Fox hugged his little brother, and Cody hugged him back.

“We’ll go when you’re ready, brother,” Fox said. He felt Cody nod against his shoulder. “They can wait a little longer.”

And that’s when Cody broke down, and Fox joined him, weeping.

* * *

Time passed differently, here.

* * *

Fives, Echo, Tup, and Jesse waited outside on the benches by the doors. They had a good feeling about today. Several other members of the 212th and 501st loitered about, the babble of hushed murmuring ever-present. Thorn was there as well, looking often at the doors.

The runes on the doors began to light up, full of old, ancient power, and the clones sprang up in anticipation. The doors cracked, and two figures exited.

“Cody! Fox!” The four clones shouted in excitement. Waxer, Oddball, and Longshot started running towards Cody. They tackled the two clones, piling up on them in one of their infamous clone-piles. Thorn pounced on Fox.

“Oof!” was all Cody and Fox managed to get out before they were crushed to within an inch of their nonexistent lives.

“Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ]!”

“Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ]!”

“Gettoff! Gettoffa me!” came Fox’s muffled grunt. No one paid any mind to that, though, and Fox and Cody simply resigned themselves to it. After a few minutes of the pile, the clones finally got off of their ori'vod'e.

“It’s so good to see you, Kote,” Waxer said, smiling broadly, tears in his eyes. “We missed you.”

Cody choked down tears of his own. “Well, I had to pick up the slack you left,” he said, punching his brother in the arm. “Took me a while.”

“Fives,” Fox said, his mouth suddenly dry.

The ARC trooper looked at him, eyes soft, the corner of his mouth turned up.

“Fives, I’m so sorry, Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ].” Fox hung his head. “I never forgave myself—I don’t know how I could ever—”

The trooper placed his hand on Fox’s shoulder. Fox looked up, and Fives scooted closer to him, bringing his forehead to Fox’s, and clasping the clone’s neck. “I forgave you a long time ago, ori’vod. I don’t think it was your fault. I don’t,” he added for emphasis when he saw Fox’s guilty look. “You were the closest trooper to the Emperor, most subject to his plots and schemes. He probably activated your chip early. Plus, one of his closest aides is a mind-manipulator. I wouldn’t be surprised if she used her abilities on you. It wasn’t your fault, I promise you. None of it was.”

Fox breathed out, softly. Maybe one day, he’d believe it.

“I mean it, brother,” Fives said gently. “Let it go. Forgive yourself. It’s time to heal.”

Fox smiled wanly. He looked away, unable to face the love and forgiveness he found so unbearable in his brother’s eyes.

“It’s good to see you, Fox,” Thorn added. Fox half-smiled. Fives let go, and Fox turned to his lieutenant, his brother.

“Good to see you too, Thorn.”

“C’mon,” Longshot pulled both clones to their feet. “You have more friends waiting to see you. Keeli is really excited to see you, Fox.”

Heart still heavy, but lighter than it had been in years, Fox let himself be pulled to see their brothers.

Fives smiled after them, Echo by his side. Jesse grinned at Tup.

“We gotta talk to Vader,” Fives said. His brothers murmured their agreement.

* * *

It had been two months since Darth Vader had last seen the clones. No flash mobs, no strange pranks, no wires unplugged or machinery damaged. He thought, with some grim amusement, that he’d had more peace and quiet in the last two months than he’d had in the past ten years.

It was lonely.

So when Fives appeared, for the first time in two months, Vader almost greeted the ghost.

Fives looked at him, eyes probing and hard. Usually, no one dared to look at Vader, not anymore—usually they could only stomach looking at him for a few seconds before turning away in horror. Whatever Fives was searching for, he didn’t find, because the clone laughed darkly and rolled his eyes. Then he turned back and scowled at the Sith Lord.

“Look,” Fives began, his voice rough, “I’m only going to say this once: I will always hate you, Darth Vader, for what you did to my brothers, and for how you destroyed and betrayed the Republic, dying and decaying though it might have been. There was once a time where I would have laid down my life for yours, and I knew, all of us _knew_ , you would have done the same for us.

“You betrayed us—and you know better than anyone else, that ‘loyalty means everything to the clones’,” he mocked with a sneer. Fives shuddered and took a deep breath.

Darth Vader considered the clone in front of him. “You are long dead, clone. What can you hope to achieve now?”

Fives grinned wickedly, eyes glittering. Vader had almost forgotten that look. It was the kind of look that usually ended in a campaign won against impossible odds—that ended with the taste of blood and victory and ash on their tongues. Though he was certain of his own power, Darth Vader almost felt…well…uneasy.

“Well, Vader, the Text with Creator's Style turned off[ Click this if hover effect is disabled ] and I have agreed,” Fives said lazily. “We’re going to annoy you back to being a decent person. And if you won’t go back to that—” here he shrugged, “then we’re going to take down your Empire from beyond the grave.”

Vader considered the ghost for a long while. “You will not stop, even if I threatened to kill all your brothers.”

Fives only glared.

Vader scoffed. “Your petty schemes are no match for the power of a Sith.”

Then Fives smiled with teeth. Vader was almost afraid. “You wanna bet?”

And before Vader could say another word, Fives disappeared.

oOo  
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	3. Slick and 99

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slick enters the Halls. He has trouble making friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place before the previous two chapters. Also, after this chapter I will be taking a break from this to focus on another story I have in mind that simply won't leave me alone. I will definitely come back to this one, though. Expect the new one to be posted before September.

When Slick arrived at the Beyond, few greeted him. There was no clone-pile, no whoops of joy, no fanfare.

The only ones who were present were Bridger and 47, two of his batchmates who had died on Geonosis. They regarded him with dark eyes.

Slick gasped, tears rushing to his eyes, running to meet his siblings. He hugged them so hard he though their ribs might crack, and after a moment, they hugged him back.

“It’s…it’s so good to see you,” Slick gasped, his penchant for words suddenly gone.

47 sighed. “It’s good to see you too, brother,” she said, her voice heavy. Bridger’s eyes were piercing and sad.

“How have you been? How are you?” Slick asked, voice eager.

Bridger sighed. “Tell him, 47.”

Slick felt a chill creep down his back. “Tell me what?”

“We saw you, Slick. We saw you.” There could be no doubt as to what 47 was referring to.

Slick froze.

47 smiled sadly. “You think we would not keep watching over you, as we marched to the stars? You were our ori’vod, the best and brightest of all of us.”

“I just…I wanted us to be free of the Jedi,” Slick said, numbly. “I didn’t want to hurt any of my vod’e. Truly, I didn’t. I thought a Separatist victory would mean freedom for us. And I still do,” he added.

Bridger rolled their eyes. “Fat lot of good it did your men,” they said bitingly.

Slick sighed. Bridger had never been one to mince words.

“Besides, it’s not us you have to tell that to, Slick,” Bridger continued, voice hard. They pointed to many angry clones, who shot Slick venomous looks. “Tell that to them.”

Slick’s knees grew weak. There they were—all of his vod’e who had died on Christophsis. Every single one.

Slick pushed his way forward, to jeers and boos. One clone even marched towards him—hate carved into his face. Before Slick could say a word, the clone punched him in the nose, knocking him onto his back.

“Don’t expect any of us to forgive you,” he muttered. “Hut’uun.” The clone spat.

Slick’s blood ran cold at the word.

“Please, let me explain!” he said, his voice taking on a nasal tone. But none of them listened, and they all marched away, disappearing deeper into the Halls.

47 and Bridger stood by him, waiting for him to get up.

“Well, I guess that’s the best I’m gonna get,” he said, disappointment cracking his voice. He held his nose—if he wasn’t dead already, he would’ve thought that his nose was broken.

47 sighed. “Give them time, vod. Maybe one day they’ll let you apologize.”

* * *

Through the years he spent in the Beyond, few people talked to him. Only 47 and Bridger stood by his side, most days.

And he was grateful to them. But he saw the looks they got, the treatment they received from other clones. And so after a while, he withdrew even from them, refusing their company.

It was lonely. But if that was the price he paid to try to free their brothers from the Republic, so be it.

* * *

One day, when Slick wasn’t looking, a clone suddenly appeared next to him.

“Hello,” he said over Slick’s cries of alarm. “I’m 99. What’s your name?” he asked.

Slick stopped himself from cursing. The clone was disfigured, misshapen, horrifically ugly. “I’m Slick,” he answered shortly, standing up and walking away.

99 followed him. “Where are you going?”

“Out.”

“Out where?”

“I don’t know, away.”

“Why?”

Slick grit his teeth. “Not important.” He kept stomping away.

“Well, if you ever want to talk, let me know, alright?” 99 asked. “Everyone needs to talk sometimes, and you shouldn’t be alone, especially with all your vod’e around.”

Slick turned to consider 99. His expression was hopeful, and unguarded. Slick wanted to laugh.

“Listen, I’m sure you mean well, but I’m really better on my own.”

99 chuckled. “I knew a brother with that attitude, once. Thought he could take on the whole world by himself.”

“Oh yeah?” Slick asked. “He get himself killed?”

99’s looked away, his shoulders slumping. “Not before he saved his brothers, and nearly all the clones.”

Slick scoffed. “Well, good for him, I guess. Leaving Kamino free to make more slaves for the Republic.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.

99 just sighed. “I’m…I’m not gonna argue with that. How can I, really?” But he frowned. “I’m not here to argue with you. No, no, listen. I just don’t want to see you so alone anymore. It’s not, it’s not good.”

“Oh, and so you came here to, what, pity me? Kriff off,” Slick snarled.

99 shook his head. “No, not at all. I just wanted to show you something. That’s all. After I show you this, I’ll leave you alone, if that’s what you want. I promise. Haat, ijaa, haa’it.”

Slick groaned. “Fine. What do you have to show me?”

“Do you want to watch the war?” 99 asked. That made Slick shut up. “Come with me.”

Slick dumbly followed 99 into an empty room.

“Sit.”

Slick sat. 99 regarded him, curious.

“Focus on who or what you want to see. Think of their image, their voice, in your mind, anything that reminds you of what you want to see.”

“Anything?”

“Yes. Anything.”

And so Slick thought of Kamino, and his squad, right before they shipped out to Geonosis.

oOo

They had just passed the Citadel test, with flying colors. Slick whooped for joy. He grabbed 47 and hugged her tightly.

“We did it! We passed!” Pops shouted. Sigil nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up. Here’s where the real fun begins,” Sigil said dourly.

Slick remembered laughing. “Oh, quiet. We’re going to be troopers, now!”

“Joy of joys,” Sigil said gloomily.

47 punched him. “I think Sigil is sad we’re leaving—its his favorite kinda weather here,” she said teasingly. Bridger rolled their eyes.

“Aw, cheer up, Sigil. It’s not your fault you were left in the growth tank too long,” 47 joked. “Be happy for the rest of us, at least.”

Sigil put on the fakest smile, looking more constipated than happy. The whole squad laughed at that, and though he would deny it later, Slick saw some brightness in his brother’s eyes.

Slick sighed. This was the last time he’d been truly happy.

“Do you want to see them?” 99 asked.

“What kinda question is that?” Slick snapped. “Of course I still want to see them. But I’m dead, making a little difficult.”

99 cocked his head. “Do you remember Sigil? What he was like?”

“How could I forget?” Slick said softly. “He’s my brother.”

“Then think of him, and the Force will guide you to him,” 99 said simply.

Slick sighed. He closed his eyes and let his thoughts drift to his brother. There was a dull roar, and then a crashing sound, and then Slick felt like he was falling. He opened his eyes and landed heavily on the ground of a battlefield, somewhere.

“Look! There!” 99 pointed. Slick looked.

There he was—Sigil fighting with dual blasters, an antenna on his helmet.

“He made ARC trooper?” Slick wondered aloud. He cocked a half-smile. “Good for him, he never wanted it.”

It was with deadly grace that Sigil aimed and fired his dual pistols, gently lobbing grenade after grenade. At one point, he jumped on the head of a B2, pulled out a vibroblade, and stabbed it right in the main processor. He dismounted, landing lightly on his feet.

Slick whistled. It had been a long time since he’d seen fighting that nice.

“He’s good. He’s better than good,” Slick said, proud. “He always said he never had any talent, but he was the best shot of all of us.”

He noticed some black details painted onto the ARC’s helmet, and he wondered what it was.

Then the last droid fell, and Sigil stopped, his chest heaving with exertion. Slick walked closer to him, wondering how he’d changed.

“Nice, Sigil,” he heard another trooper congratulate his brother.

“Eh, well, I didn’t die,” Sigil said, a bit of mischief in his eye. The other trooper laughed.

“Worse sense of humor in the whole platoon.”

Slick finally wandered close enough to read the black details on the armor—it was his batchmates callsigns, in Aurebeesh.

  1. Bridger. Slick.



Overwhelmed, Slick took a step back. He died by execution on Coruscant, as punishment for betraying the GAR—Sigil shouldn’t have been able to mourn his death. But he still did. “I’m so sorry, brother. I’m sorry I failed. We shouldn’t have to fight this war—we are meant for greater things than this.”

“He can’t hear you,” 99 said.

“Yes, he can, in almost all the ways that matter,” Slick said sadly. “I’m so sorry.”

“I think my HUD’s broken—I’ll never get it fixed before the next battle,” Sigil said, his vocorder popping. He slid his fingers under the helmet and slowly took it off.

Slick looked at his little brother with so much sorrow. Sigil had gained several small scars on his face, and there was a tightness around his eyes that hadn’t been there before, his brow was more deeply furrowed. His hair was close cropped and simple.

Gods, he looked so old for his age. How old was he now?

“How old is he?” Slick asked 99, not taking his eyes off his little brother.

“He is ten standard, but that means closer to twenty for us Vod’e,” 99 said.

Slick sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Gods, I’ve only been dead for a year?”

“Time passes differently here,” 99 replied. “It is still the first year of the war.”

“Not the last,” Slick said. “Not the last, I don’t think.” He sighed heavily. “And if I want to see Pops…?”

“Do the same thing. Focus on him, and the Force will guide you to him.”

“Stupid kriffing Force, stupid kriffing Jedi,” he growled as he closed his eyes and drifted away.

* * *

It was easier this time—no roars, no falling. He opened his eyes and found himself under cloudy Coruscanti skies. He shivered. He didn’t have happy memories of Coruscant.

But he looked around, and found himself on an army base. Apparently, Pops’ regiment was on leave. Good for Pops, Slick thought as he wound his way around, looking for the brother he knew.

He found his brother in the barracks, a dreamy smile on his face. Slick wanted to ask what made him look so stupid, but someone else beat him to it.

“Hey, Pops, what’s got you looking like a you just took a hit of spice?” a brother asked from the couch.

“Not that girl again, is it?” another called, and Slick laughed as his brother’s cheeks heated furiously.

“Ay, boy’s in love! Cut him some slack,” someone else said. Slick found himself agreeing with that voice.

“Shuddup, Tibs,” Pops retorted. “None of your business.”

“What’s her name?” Slick wondered.

“What’s her name?” someone else asked.

Pops sighed dreamily. “Her name’s Ash. She’s so sweet, and she smells good, she got me the perfect cup of caf without me asking, she loves looking at stars in the astrodome, and I think she really sees me, you know?”

“Gods, surprised she doesn’t run away from your ugly mug,” Tibs teased. He received a pillow in the face for it, and Slick laughed.

His brother deserved that. His brother looked so stupidly in love and he deserved to have that. Not for the first time did Slick curse the war and the Jedi and the Republic. He hated it. He hated all of it.

“One day,” Slick promised Pops, “one day you’re gonna have all of it. I promise you. Keep your head down and don’t do anything stupid, so you can get out of this war and back to that girl. Understand? Desert if you want, gods know you’ve had more disgraceful brothers.”

But Pops, of course, didn’t hear him, and lay back on the bunk, lovestruck expression on his face.

It hurt too much to keep watching. So Slick focused on his shame and his guilt, and he disappeared back into the Halls.

oOo

After that, Slick watched his brothers, constantly. Sometimes, he would find 47 and Bridger there too, but he kept his distance. Even 99 would say hi to him sometimes.

Sigil kept rising in the ranks of the GAR. Slick was both proud and sad. He watched as Sigil’s eyes grew darker and heavier, and his ever-cynical voice became rougher and more tinged with grief. By the end of the second year of the war, Sigil had made lieutenant commander of the 85th, no small feat for a CT. He was going gray, Slick thought with some sadness.

For Pops, he also rose in the ranks. He never rose as high as Sigil, but he was made captain, and he painted his armor in gorgeous blue lines and swirls. Slick watched as he wrote Ash’s name on the inside of his chestplate, as well as a small prayer to some foreign god. Even though Pops lost vod’e as well, there was always at least a small spark of happiness in his eyes, buried though it might have been.

He watched as Pops was transferred to the 501st, and his heart was happy at the thought. Though the 501st was deployed often to the most dangerous parts of the front lines, there were relatively few casualties. General Skywalker deployed Pops again and again. He could almost see how Skywalker was a good general. But he never forgot the anger that burned in the man’s eyes when he’d realized Slick’s betrayal.

Slick frowned. He remembered that the younger general had reacted very strongly when he’d said, “It’s the Jedi who keeps my brothers enslaved!” He remembered the rage, the hurt, and confusion in Skywalker’s eyes. He’d chalked it up to the Jedi not understanding, being at last confronted with the consequences of his actions. But maybe there was something more to it.

Slick disappeared back into the Halls. He quickly found 99 and pulled the other clone aside.

“I need your help,” he said.

99 brightened. “Sure, Slick! How can I help?”

“I need to ask a question about, uh, viewing Life?”

99 shrugged. “I don’t really know all that much about it. But there’s someone else we can ask. Hey, Acolyte?”

A being appeared. Slick flinched, startled by the sudden appearance of this strange, luminous being.

“Hello 99. How can I assist you?”

“Can the Force show us anything in Life we want to see?” Slick asked.

“Yes, it can show you almost anything. Is there some pornography you wish to see? We would have to bypass some restrictions, but it is indeed possible.”

Slick choked, and 99 smothered a laugh with his hand. “No, no thank you. I, um, I wanted to see someone else’s life, in the past. Could I do that?”

“Oh, certainly!” Acolyte chirped. “Simply focus on the person, and I will rewind time to whatever timeframe you want. You must understand though, for privacy reasons, we can’t show you everything in a person’s life. Nudity and sexual encounters are nearly always forbidden, and so are certain conversations—”

“That’s fine,” Slick said with a wave of his hand. “I want to know more about General Skywalker’s life.”

Acolyte twitched. “Certainly.”

And immediately they landed in a warzone. Slick could see Skywalker advancing through the unending waves of droids, his bright blue lightsaber alternately deflecting bolts and cutting through droids. He was always at the forefront of the vanguard.

“That’s General Skywalker, huh?” 99 asked. Slick nodded. “He’s a good jetii.”

“What would you like to see?” Acolyte asked.

“What’s his first memory?” Slick asked. “Take me there.”

The scene changed to a filthy and crowded room. The harsh lighting was created stark contrasts on the walls. There were quiet moans of pain everywhere.

Slick looked up, shocked. “Where are we?” he asked.

“We are on Tatooine, in the palace of Gardulla the Hutt,” Acolyte answers.

“Tatooine? The Hutts?” Slick asked, bewildered. “We’re talking about General Skywalker, right? The famous Jedi?”

“Yes. He is here.” Acolyte pointed to a small boy, huddled next to an older woman, likely his mother.

Slick approached cautiously, and looked. Skywalker couldn’t have been more than five standard years old. He saw fearful blue eyes and a shock of blonde hair. The mother was dozing fitfully.

“I don’t understand,” Slick said slowly. “This is his beginning?”

“Keep watching.”

A door opened, and two guards walked in. The room immediately fell silent. The guards curled their lips in disgust at the sight of all the beings in the room.

“Skywalkers!” one of them shouted. The boy stood, and the mother did too.

“Come with us.”

The pair followed obediently, heads down.

“Gardulla lost you, betting on the podraces to some Toydarian,” one of the guards muttered. “Shame. You won’t be getting any more visits from me, slave,” the guard said cruelly, pushing the mother down. Slick watched as hate flared in the boy’s eyes, and then settle in a mask of careful neutrality. He knew the feeling.

Slick’s jaw tightened. “They’re slaves of Gardulla the Hutt?”

“No longer. They’re now property of a Toydarian, named Watto.”

“Skywalker? The Jedi general? The one serving in the GAR?” Slick asked, incredulous.

Acolyte nodded. “The very same.”

Slick exhaled. He ran his hands through his hair. “I had no idea,” he breathed.

“Mm. Few do.”

“This is awful!” 99 said, clenching his fists. “And the Republic does nothing about this?”

“No,” came the simple answer from Acolyte.

Slick just watched.

He watched as the boy saw the guard leer at his mother. He watched as the two slaves were shipped out, as they were given their work orders. He watched as Anakin Skywalker built his life in the dark places, where no one could find them. The boy was brilliant, Slick thought, as he cared for and repaired droids and podracers. The boy was also extraordinarily kind—helping others where no one else would, Slick thought. He helped his mother with chores and he watched as the future Jedi endured his bleak existence.

He watched all of it.

“So why…why would he join the Jedi?” Slick asked.

* * *

And then the Jedi came, and Slick understood immediately. The Jedi gave him a way out. The Jedi bartered for his (only Anakin’s, and not his mother’s, Slick noted) freedom, and so, in Skywalker’s mind, Slick understood, they would always be freedom fighters. Not bloated, inflexible politicians, bumbling generals who stumbled their way into a war and never once thought of their troops. After all, why look a gift army in the mouth?

Slick shook his head. Gods, how did the galaxy come to this? A slave was more willing and able to help royalty than their own interplanetary government. It was pitiful, cruel, and bizarre.

“Okay, so that’s one part of the puzzle,” Slick said to himself. “What’s are the other parts?”

Slick knew he dealt with a woman named Ventress—she claimed to have powers equal to the Jedi. She seemed to understand his rage and hate for the Jedi. She said they’d abandoned her, left her to die, and he’d commiserated with her. He focused on her—

And he saw her. He watched as she killed his vod’e, trying to glean some information from them. They were a part of the 104th, Slick realized dumbly. He watched as Ventress tortured the commanding officer—removing his eye, scarring him.

“Stop, please,” he whispered pathetically. He knew Ventress couldn’t hear him.

He didn’t know if he’d ever stop hearing his brother’s screams.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his heart numb. How could he be so stupid? It was the first thing they learned on Kamino—the only people they could trust were other vod’e. No one else would help them—not the longnecks, not the bounty hunters, not even Prime, if it came to it. In his zeal for freedom, he’d forgotten that.

Gods and stars above, how could he have been so blind?

Mind now numb, he watched the whole war—watched as the Seppies invaded world after world, Kiros and Mon Cala and Ryloth, and enslaved or killed whole populations of people. He watched the rise of the Zygerrian Empire and the blatant return of slavery to the galaxy. He watched as whole planets were brought to ruin.

He felt sick. His whole world spun in tatters around him. He’d betrayed his vod’e for a lie.

Slick fell to his knees on some unknown battlefield, dead vod’e piled around him, and he wept.

99 appeared then, somehow knowing. He comforted Slick, rubbing circles on the younger clone’s back. Slick was grateful for it.

No, he would never have love for the Jedi, like some of his brothers. And the Republic was hopelessly corrupt. But he knew now that the Separatists were worse. So much worse.

“Acolyte!” he screamed. The being appeared at his side. He and 99 both looked up.

“Acolyte, how do I make amends?” he gasped, voice rough. “How do I make up for the deaths I’d caused?”

Acolyte looked at him, face blank. “You are dead.”

Slick lunged forward and gripped the being’s robes. “How,” he rasped, “how do I make amends?”

“Amends are for the living to make.”

“But I know better now!” Slick screamed.

Acolyte seemed to soften, just slightly. “Perhaps you can now start healing, then.” Acolyte disappeared, leaving Slick clutching at empty, foul air. 99 simply sat with him and let him cry.

**Author's Note:**

> Mando'a Translations:
> 
> vod--sibling  
> vod'e--siblings  
> ori-vod--older sibling


End file.
